


On the Last Day of Christmas...

by HolleringHawk65



Category: Batman (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Superman (Comics)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Kinda, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-08
Updated: 2015-12-08
Packaged: 2018-05-05 14:16:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5378261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HolleringHawk65/pseuds/HolleringHawk65
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's this sweatshirt, and of course Damian thinks that it's nothing to wear it, but there's this history behind it that makes it something.</p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Last Day of Christmas...

**Author's Note:**

> Damian's older here, like probably 17 or 18, if not older. I think that he'd still be Robin too but I don't think that really matters (?)

No one is quite sure when it started. There was a series of circumstances that caused it, true, but nonetheless, there was not an exact _date_ that it started. This could, primarily, be because it started in secret.

There was a sweatshirt that Dick loved to wear, a zip-up version of the blue Nightwing outfit. It was worn and more than a little faded, but it was still just the right amount of cozy. He didn’t wear it outside of the Manor or his apartment, but it was still a staple in his wardrobe.

He had left it in the Manor during one of his off world missions while he was still Batman and, somehow, Damian had simply acquired it. At first, it was only at night, after patrols. Something easy to slip into after taking a shower, cozy enough to fall asleep in. And, no one needed to know -- Damian always put in back into one of Dick’s hampers.

Then, it progressed to him keeping it even when Dick was in Gotham. He still only wore it in bed, at first at least, but one afternoon when Tim came over to use the Cave, well, that wasn’t the case. Damian was sitting in one of the studies, curled up on a settee, a book in his lap.

Tim froze, backtracking, and standing in the doorway as he stared at Damian. “Where did you get that?”

The teen looked up slowly. “Excuse me?”

“That’s not your sweatshirt.”

“This house isn’t yours.”

Tim resisted a wince as they stared at each other. “Does Dick know?”

Damian didn’t say anything for a moment, which was enough of answer. “He wouldn’t care.”

Maybe, but it still… didn’t sit right with him. “Alright Damian, have it your way.”

“Of course.” With that, he looked back down at his book, ending the conversation in a very Wayne like way.

Tim rolled his eyes before heading back down the hall.

* * *

 

“Master Damian,” Alfred began, in his diplomatic voice.

“I asked Dick if I could wear his clothes,” Damian snapped before he looked down, in shame. “Sorry, but Tim accused me of stealing, earlier this week.”

“Ah.” Alfred stood there for a moment. “I simply wasn’t aware that you had taken to wearing that sweatshirt.”

Rarely did something escape Alfred’s notice, even if it was something that Damian had done, so he was, actually, incredibly pleased with himself.

“Would you like me to wash it?” Alfred said.

“No, thank you Alfred.”

Still, it made the teen smile when he came out of the shower to find the sweatshirt nowhere in his room. In the morning, it was resting on his drawers, folded perfectly. It should have tipped him off, looking back on it, that it didn’t smell like the normal soap Alfred used.

* * *

 

Dick looked _furious_. “Damian! I said that you could wear _my_ clothes!”

It was Christmas Eve, and everyone was slowly migrating to the Manor--Clark was going to bring Jason there in the morning. But right now? It was just Dick and Damian, in the former’s room because Damian had tried to surprise him with breakfast. “This _is_ you sweatshirt. You wear it all of the time.”

Dick stood up, brushing past the teen to get into the bathroom. “Just get out, Damian.”

For a split second, all he wanted to do was hurl the tray of food at Dick’s head. He took a deep breath and set it on the bed, instead.

Sure, the sweatshirt was comfortable, but he was doing it because- because-

Damian wiped his totally not wet eyes on one of the sleeves before storming out of the bedroom. Grayson was _infuriating_ and so _dense_ sometimes, he just wanted to thrash him by the neck.

He was heading down the hall, not paying attention to anything, when he walked straight into a 6’ 3” wall of muscle - again. He stumbled back before looking up, wanting to lash out, but Clark hadn’t been doing anything wrong. He’d probably been here just to drop off the presents from him and Jason.

“Damian, what’s wrong?”

He took in a deep breath before starting to talk, surprising himself when his words came out so close together. “Grayson is an oblivious idiot, I mean I’ve been wearing _his_ sweatshirt for the past _month_ , and now he’s upset with me because apparently it’s not his? Why does he wear a Nightwing sweatshirt that isn’t _his_?”

Very quietly, Clark said: “Because it was Jason’s.”

_Oh._

. . .That actually explained a lot.

Clark continued, innately knowing that Damian wanted more of an explanation. “It probably wouldn’t surprise you to hear that Jason was spoiled rotten, at least by his standards, when Bruce and Alfred first took him in. He swore to them that he didn’t want any Christmas gifts, but everyone had to take part in Secret Santa. Dick got Jason, and, not knowing what else to do, got him the sweatshirt. He figured that, worse came to worse, Jason just wouldn’t wear it.

“Oh, but he did. He wore it all of the time around the Manor, like I’ve heard that you’ve been doing. Nobody knew why he wore it -- whether it was to egg your father on, because it was something he had lying around, or it was comfy. I guess that he told Dick why, before he died, because Dick just. . . took it, after finding out.”

Damian crossed his arms. “Surely _you_ know why, now? After all, you are his beloved, are you not?”

Clark’s cheeks turned pink and he laughed. “Yes, I suppose I am, and I do know.”

“Well? Aren’t you going to tell me? I’m sure that it’s nothing any more damaging than what Todd could have done to himself.”

Clark nudged a door open with his foot. It lead to an empty bedroom, and Damian shrugged before they walked into it. There was no reason not to trust _Superman_ , of all people.

“You’re not going to breath a word of this to anyone, understand me?”

“Understood.”

“Jason wore that sweatshirt because it gave him hope. He thought that if he was good enough to get the sweatshirt from Dick after such a short time of knowing each other, that maybe, after some time as Robin, he could take up the Nightwing mantle when Dick would inevitably become Batman.”

Yeah, that sounded like something that would make Dick become possessive of the sweatshirt, after Jason _died_.

* * *

 

“Is that all of them?” Jason asked as he stretched out. The four of them -- Kory, Roy, Clark, and himself -- were doing presents first at the apartment before Kory & Roy went on to brave Christmas with Ollie and Dinah while Jason and Clark would go to the Manor.

“There is one more!” Kory said, reaching for a shoddily wrapped present before handing it to Jason. Other than his name, there was nothing on the present that indicated who it could be from.

He turned it over a few times, frowning, because everyone was only supposed to have gotten each other a single gift to open in front of everyone else. “It’s not a bomb, is it?”

“You’re good to go,” Clark told him, and he took him at his word before tearing it open.

There was a bulging box that Jason had to open, and then he started laughing. “Who the _hell_ would get me a Batman sweatshirt?”

It was a slipover with a drawstring hood that even had pointy ears, and a large pocket in front. It was light gray, the classic Batman symbol on the chest, Jason instinctively tracing it with his fingertips.

“There’s a note,” Clark said gently, handing it to Jason.

_Todd,_

_It has come to my attention that I have acquired something of yours. I am not willing to give it up, so I acquired a replacement. You are more than worthy of Nightwing and of this cowl._

Clark tugged him over, sensing that his _beloved_ was upset, kissed him in his hair.

* * *

 

Damian had a habit, considered bad by some, of sitting up on the roof of the manor. He liked being able to see the stars, liked getting away from everything -- or, at least, almost everything.

Jason settled down next to him, passing him a mug of still hot cocoa. He had seemed happy today, among the family with Clark. No one had commented on the sweatshirt that he was wearing -- the one that Damian had gotten him -- but then again, they’d stopped commenting on Damian wearing his. It was a Christmas miracle, if he were being honest.

“Thanks for the sweatshirt, it’s cozy,” Jason said after a moment. “That one looks good on you.”

Damian snorted before taking a sip of the hot chocolate. It wasn’t Alfred’s -- his was loaded down with sugar, with this one being more like dark chocolate, just like he liked it. “I don’t know if I would have worn it if I had known how important it was to you.”

“ _Was_ , baby bat. I’m Red Hood now, not Robin. I’ve grown up.”

Damian considered this for a moment, wondered how true it could be when Jason still jumped at their beck and call. Maybe growing up and caring about your family weren’t so simply linked though. “You would have been a good Nightwing.”

He laughed, tilting his head back as he did. “Now I know that you’re just buttering me up. What did you do? Have sex in my bed?”

“Excuse me?” He felt his cheeks turn red because why did - he and Dick - _sex?!_

“Wait, you and Dick haven’t, you know, done the deed?”

He hit him on the shoulder. “Do you think we even have the _time_ to do it? And if you say something about you and Clark, I

will

shove you off of this roof.”

He smiled like he had a secret. “Sure you would.” He stretched out, let out a sigh before getting back up. “Coming back in?”

* * *

 

Dick wrapped his arms around Damian, pressing him as close as possible. “You know, what you did for Jay, it was really nice.”

Damian chuckled before leaning in for another kiss. “You have an odd definition of ‘really nice.’ I’m just replacing something I took.”

Dick smirked as his fingers played with Damian’s hair. “Just take the complement, baby bat.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to follow me on tumblr! It's the same username :)


End file.
